


Hell Hound on my Trail

by orphan_account



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: AU, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-11
Updated: 2011-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:26:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People talk to him but he doesn't listen (or: he listens even less than usual) and he knows that Mike can tell something is wrong, can practically smell it on him and Harvey presses his nose against himself and the decay from the night before is lingering around him like a bad cologne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell Hound on my Trail

**Author's Note:**

> a fill for [this stellar prompt](http://suitsmeme.livejournal.com/1110.html?thread=236118#t236118) over at the suits kink meme. I really, really hope this is at least okay. I can live with okay. I just don't want it to be terrible. (any grammar mistakes that I missed are my own damn fault. I'll fix them if I notice them)

The voice, like a whisper through crackling leaves, is what wakes him up in the middle of the night and there's a stench of decay in the air surrounding him.

 _No_ , he thinks and then: "No," out loud, to nobody, "not yet."

It couldn't be. Not right now. Not _right now_.

Whatever he was hearing, whatever he smelled, slowly disappeared, blowing away, drifting, and Harvey sighs, runs a hand over his face and presses the tips of his fingers against his chest, feeling his heart. It pounds, beating his ribs like a punching bag and he draws in air through his nose. A chill settles inside his bones.

Ten years, he realizes, really could just fly by.

\- -

He thinks about skipping work but that'd be more suspicious than him showing up looking as exhausted and disheveled as he felt. Besides, if he was going to die (the chill came back, twisting around his muscles and his shoulders jerked, shivering) he might as well go down in a blaze of glory in court than alone in his apartment, holding on for dear life, jaw clenched and meaningless last thoughts stuttering over his tongue.

People talk to him but he doesn't listen (or: he listens even less than usual) and he knows that Mike can tell something is wrong, can practically smell it on him and Harvey presses his nose against himself and the decay from the night before is lingering around him like a bad cologne.

He might as well already be dead.

"I'm taking an early lunch," he tells Donna and he's aware that she speaks but it all sounds like burbling water and instead of walking right out the door he strides over to Louis' office and he really wishes everything wasn't glass. "It can't be ten years already," he says promptly, bluntly, and Louis looks up from the papers on his desk, slowly lowers his pen and tilts his head ever so slightly. Harvey grimaces when Louis looks absent-mindedly at his watch and his eyes flash black, but only for a second.

"Well," Louis smiles and Harvey's skin itches, "what do you know. That seemed a lot shorter than it usually does. I suppose you're going to try and ask… _beg_ to be given more time."

"No," Harvey replies quickly, with as much authority as he can summon, a voice in the back of his head chanting ' _yes yes yes more time_ '.

"Hm. That's hard to believe." He swings ever so gently back and forth in his chair, leaning back, folding hands on his lap, pushing his thumbs together. "Then why'd you come here."

"We had a deal."

"We do."

"I'm not talking about the… about the thing. The one _I_ made. I can-"

"What? Negotiate your way out of it? Yeah. I'd like to see you try to explain to a couple of hell hounds why you think you shouldn't hold up your end of the bargain. I'm sure it'll be a very stirring speech. You've got a couple of days. I could wrangle up a jury if it makes it easier."

"That's not…" Harvey takes a few steps closer, keeping his back straight.

"Yeah, yeah," Louis looks annoyed, "I'll leave when you do."

"Good."

\- -

He's actually going now (out into the sunlight and it feels different than it usually does, like it knows there's going to be one less person who will know it exists and is trying extra hard to be warm) for food, for nothing else, because he's hungry suddenly and he doesn't know why and he's halfway to a restaurant ( _any_ restaurant, it doesn't matter) when he feels someone grab his arm and he jumps, feet practically off the sidewalk and he's prepared to strike but the only thing that's standing there is Mike, his bag slung over his chest and a concerned look darting across his face.

"What's going on," Mike asks quietly and Harvey just stares. "You can't lie to me. You've been acting weird all day. Everybody's noticed. I'm the only one who's going to ask."

\- -

They're sitting at a table, drinking beer and not talking.

"I'm going to die in a couple of days," Harvey says without warning, taking a sip of his drink and perusing the menu because he can't quite make himself look anywhere else. He can hear Mike laugh, slow and careful from deep in his throat like he's waiting for the punchline so Harvey lifts his eyes and then his brows and sets his mouth into a straight line and moves forward a bit and then Mike isn't laughing anymore.

"Wait, what?" He looks like he might (god forbid) cry or go through all five stages of grief in a few minutes. His eyes are changing emotions like a television going through channels and Mike's trying to process the nine words that just went slamming into his ears. "You're going to… but…"

Harvey orders more alcohol before he continues. (He's always been against drinking heavy liquor while on the clock but fuck it; if he's going to be in the ground sooner rather than later, he can get a little drunk on company time and money.)

"You ever hear of the crossroads demon?"

"Sure. But I figured he was like Bigfoot, you know?"

"Not even close."

"He's real."

"He's very real."

"Your kidding. This is a test, right? A joke."

"No."

"Come on, Harvey. You expect me-"

"Mike. Look at me." Neither of them blink. Mike swallows and sits back, hitting the chair with a thud. "Yeah," Harvey sighs.

"And you-"

"Yep."

"And he-"

"Pretty much."

"How long did you get?" Mike inquires softly after a lengthy moment of silence. Harvey just stares.

"Ten years." There's another pause. Mike looks disappointed in a disapproving father kind of way, like he couldn't believe that Harvey would do something like… like _this_ , something so selfish, so greedy, so dangerous. Harvey hates that the kid looks up to him enough to be disappointed. If Mike knew him better, he'd have expected this and met the news with an air of being utterly unsurprised. Mike doesn't ask why.

"But… you can't."

"I have to. End of conversation."

"Harvey, you-"

"End," Harvey says sternly, his palms flat on the table, "of conversation." He gets up and leaves Mike with the bill.

\- -

"Where is he," Mike demands later that evening, barging into Harvey's office, standing squarely in front of him and Harvey frowns.

"Who? Elvis? He's left the building." Nobody laughed.

"The demon."

Harvey snorts. "Why? So you can build me a case? Try to adjudicate my release? It was my mistake. It's my problem. I'll deal with it."

"You can't tell me something like this and expect me not to do anything."

"I can. And I do. Stay out of it."

"What's the worse that could happen? You're going to die in a couple of days anyway, right?" Harvey's startled by the sudden frost in Mike's tone, like he realized being himself wasn't getting him anywhere so he might as well try to be Harvey.

"He's in Louis' office," Harvey finally says, not revealing any more than that, watching Mike's retreating form and wondering if he should have gone with him.

\- -

"Call it off."

Louis peers up from his couch, smirking and crossing a leg over his knee, narrowing his eyes, just a bit.

"Can't. You know," Louis says, "I'm not surprised he told you. I'm just surprised he sent you here to try and save him."

"He has nothing to do with it. I came by myself."

"You did, did you?" Mike doesn't think about what he had just said until he hears the chuckle in Louis' voice and Mike's ears get warm but he otherwise doesn't flinch. "What do you possibly think you could do right now to convince me to call off the dogs in two days?"

"What kind of deal did Harvey make?" Mike counters with another question of his own. He hovers close to the door, not sure why his body is telling him he might need to run but he's liking that he has the option.

"Boring," Louis says offhandedly.

"Tell me." Mike clenches his jaw and his fists, stands his ground because he _has to know_. Louis gives him a slow once-over, starting at his feet and working his way to the very top of Mike's head and then he grinds his teeth together, mouth curling into a smile.

"Did you really think how successful he is came from hard work and perseverance?" Louis waits like he's expecting an answer and the look that Mike has on his face is enough to replace words. He stands, taking awkward but fluid steps forward, approaching, and Mike has nowhere to go but backwards. "You did. Of _course_ you did. You're just too precious. No, you see, your mentor Harvey was having some trouble at Harvard, the kind of trouble that had him drunk and standing at a crossroads, calling for help. My help. I didn't look like… _this_ at the time," Louis looks down at himself for a moment and scowls, "But I had to keep an eye on him. Harvey's a tricky guy. And I like him. For someone who was caving under the pressure of law school, he certainly knew how to strike a deal."

"What if I made a deal. With you," Mike says after listening intently to every word Louis (although, now, calling him such a human name left a bad taste in his mouth and Mike vaguely wondered what the real Louis was like and what had happened to him) had spilled forth into the stale air.

"Let me guess… I let him live and in ten years, I take you instead. So, what? When your time comes he can do the same? You'll just keep switching back and forth forever. Is that what you were going to suggest?" Louis snickers at Mike's surprise. "You have no idea how many people have tried that one before. It doesn't work."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not an idiot," Louis says acidly, grabbing Mike's tie and wrapping it around his fist, pulling harshly, speaking through his teeth and, as if he didn't know what had come over him, he lets go, brushing the wrinkles from Mike's shirt and resting his hands on Mike's shoulders, "and because people are selfish and greedy," he speaks like a mother trying to explain a highly complicated concept to a child, "Do you really think that in ten years, Harvey will pull through? Or do you think he'll let you die for a chance to keep living? Are you really willing to take that bet?"

Mike opens his mouth, but no words come out.

\- -

Mike returns, shaking his head, his face pale, and Harvey feels his mouth go dry, his skin becoming numb. He knew, on the surface, that Mike would never be able to help, that sending him off to confront a demon was a pointless exercise but, somewhere, deep inside, there was a glimmer of hope that maybe, possibly, Mike was special.

"Harvey…" Mike starts but Harvey puts up a hand.

"Mike, don't-"

"I made a deal with him," Mike says.

" _What_." Harvey shouts, launches himself up from his chair, maneuvering around his desk to grasp Mike by the collar and fling him against the bookcase, everything around them rattling and shifting and Mike doesn't try to escape and he stares right into Harvey's eyes. "That's not funny."

"I'm not kidding."

" _Fuck_. Mike." Harvey drops his hands, turning away to pinch the bridge of his nose, to run fingers through his hair, to _breathe_ and when he turns back around, Mike hasn't moved.

"It's okay," Mike says and he's startled when Harvey laughs.

"It's _okay_?! Fuck you, Mike. It's not _okay_. You…" he's still laughing and he looks away again, staring out of his office, watching everyone twist and spin and shuffle around each other, oblivious and stupid. "What exactly am I supposed to do now?"

"You could say thank you," Mike offers.

"Thank you? For what? I told you this was _my_ problem, _my_ responsibility. I told you not to get involved. You did anyway. And now I have the fact that you think you did me a favor and that you're going to get mauled to death by hell hounds in ten years sitting on my shoulders. And you want me to _thank you_?" Harvey exhales through the side of his mouth and closes his eyes.

"Harvey, I _saved you_ ," Mike protests, his heart pounding in his ears as he moves forward, his face crumpling when Harvey pulls away like Mike is poison.

"You didn't save me. You _ruined_ me. I knew what I was doing. I didn't like it, but I knew. I was… no. Get out of my office. Get out of this building. You're fired."

"Harvey." But, no matter what he says, single words and long tirades that bubble from his mouth, Mike gets no response and, eventually, he makes his way for the door, and leaves.

\- -

 _ten years later_

"I told you," the demon, no longer in Louis' body, says to Mike as the pair of them stand on the sidewalk outside of the building where Harvey still worked, "I told you he wouldn't pull through."

"He hasn't…?"

"Not a peep. Now, don't you just feel stupid?" Mike is suddenly overwhelmed with the stench of decay and a cold settles in bones. He feels the heavy breath of panting dogs on the back of his legs and, with wide eyes, he nervously glances over his shoulder but sees nothing. "You can run if you want." The demon grins.

Up on the thirtieth floor, Harvey turns away from his window and goes back to work.


End file.
